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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25460779">i'll leave you the dust, my love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds'>princessoftheworlds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Many Lives and Lies of Jack Harkness [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Jack-Centric, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:48:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25460779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Science says that the universe is endless, but Jack, having actually traveled the infinite stretch of darkness and twinkling stars, knows otherwise. There is an edge of the universe, a point where the stars drop out and all that exists is the great vastness of space and swirling clouds of shimmering dust, the remains of eons of dying worlds and stories.</p><p>Jack sets the course of his spaceship for that edge of the universe. Around his neck, in a slim silver capsule, he carries the other half of his hollowed heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Lisa Hallett/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Many Lives and Lies of Jack Harkness [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll leave you the dust, my love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/gifts">engagemythrusters</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank the Bloody Torchwood discord server for this. We were just talking, and then I brought up cremation and how the Hindu culture scatters the ashes of their dead. Next thing I knew, I had this idea, and Louise was enabling me. So thank Louise for this sad. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Science says that the universe is endless, but Jack, having actually traveled the infinite stretch of darkness and twinkling stars, knows otherwise. There is an edge of the universe, a point where the stars drop out and all that exists is the great vastness of space and swirling clouds of shimmering dust, the remains of eons of dying worlds and stories.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack sets the course of his spaceship for that edge of the universe. Around his neck, in a slim silver capsule, he carries the other half of his hollowed heart.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Legends and myths sing of heroes and martyrs, saying they were never so bright and glorious in life as they were after their demise. That is a baldfaced lie. In death, Ianto Jones is small, pale, and weak. Jack Harkness stands over his body and feels nothing but remorse. Remorse and guilt. There’s no point in feeling otherwise; Ianto is dead. He’s not a fixed point like Jack; he’s dead and never coming back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well?” asks Martha, glancing hesitantly up at Jack from where she stands before him and the steel morgue drawer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, what?” Jack doesn’t glance up. He ghosts his fingers over the edges of the drawer, feeling the cold steel beneath his perfect fingertips. His hand doesn’t dare venture to the even colder body.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Martha clears her throat with a quiet cough. “What have you decided to do with Ianto’s body? We fought so hard to get him back from MI-5.” She tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Ianto’s sister wants to bury him. Put his body to rest besides his father’s and mother’s. She wants a funeral, a grave to remember him by.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” Jack says curtly. That sounds like a horrible idea. Ianto’s family never understood him. Ianto would have never wanted to be buried besides his father. “She can’t have him.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jack-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cremate him, Dr. Jones,” orders Jack, his gaze venturing away from the body. That’s not Ianto, not anymore; might as well get used to it. “I want…” Only now does his voice show the strain of loss and grief. “I want his ashes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The spaceship idles through the fathomless void of deep space, utterly alone, just like its sole inhabitant. Jack Harkness doesn’t bother watching the stars; there’s none to see.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how many months, how many years, it’s been since he first left Earth. He stopped counting the moment Ianto Jones stopped breathing. Time is meaningless to an immortal. Death...not so much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just this once</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jack quotes, mangling a Northern brogue, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>everybody lives</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” He scoffs, his monologue faltering. “What a load of shit, Doctor.” His words are bitter, caustic; there’s no love for the Doctor here, not any more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He paces the short length of the ship, from the cabin door to the small window that overlooks the darkness. His stride is brisk and angry; he could be a tiger patrolling the confines of his cage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The great Time Lord, the Timeless Child, the Valeyard, the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds,” mocks Jack. He turns swiftly on his heel to face the window again. “All those titles and all you ever do is bumble into a dangerous situation and make it worse. You don’t save lives, Doctor; you endanger them.” He barks, the sound echoing loudly in the enclosed cabin. “Yet you have the nerve to call </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong, all because my existence threatens your precious laws of time. Where are your Time Lords, Doctor?” Silence ticks by slowly. “Dead. Because you slaughtered them all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His next few words tear from his throat: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t ask for this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jack works a reckless hand through his hair, eyeing the greatcoat where it is hooked onto the wall. “Rose brought me back. I was not to blame. In fact, I’m the one who should be angry. I was robbed of the chance to live, to die, to lead a normal life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>These are all the things he wishes to say to the Doctor, all the things he never will say to the Doctor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanted a life with him!” cries Jack finally, harsh eyes finally softening of their rage. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I wanted a life with Ianto Jones</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and I couldn’t even have that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’d like the stars,” Jack says softly one night as he lies beside Ianto in bed, head nestled on the other man’s chest. This heart still beats, strong, soft, and steady. Jack dreads the day when it will still and cease.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly: “Why?” Ianto doesn’t move, but the blatant disbelief in his question has taken Jack aback. “You always talk of the wonders of space, of all the adventures you’ve had, Jack, but I’ve lived on this planet for twenty-odd years, and I’ve seen the worst of humanity. Human beings are bitter, selfish, broken. What’s to say that it isn’t the same out there in the universe?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack chuckles quietly, still stunned. “You’re one cynical man, Ianto Jones. I don’t think you give humans enough credit,” he replies. “You’re an incredible bunch.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ianto scoffs but doesn’t turn away. “Lisa always wanted to see the stars.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lisa Hallett, the ever-so-elusive ghost between Jack and Ianto. She gets mentioned less and less with each passing day, but she still exists, is always residing in the unspoken doubt in Ianto’s mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did she?” asks Jack.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She had a dream: one day, we would find an alien spaceship, abandoned or broken. We would fix it with technology from Torchwood London or perhaps even build our own. And eventually, we would climb inside and fly away from this lonely planet.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sounds wonderful.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It was a pipedream,” Ianto returns, voice just a bit colder. “An illusive smoke trick between an idealistic young couple too invested in the purpose of Torchwood. Marriage, children, that was never for us. We knew that from the moment we signed onto Torchwood, we essentially signed our own death certificates. We weren’t going to live long enough to play happy families.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The despair and resentment in Ianto’s tone is not fitting for a man so young. Jack vows that Ianto will not meet the same end as Lisa, but even he knows that his glittering visions are just like Lisa and Ianto’s fantasy, a fleeting pipedream. The truth is, one day Ianto will leave Jack, either willingly or without a choice, just like Lisa left Ianto.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the inevitability of immortality.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Any sane man would outfit himself in a secure spacesuit, but it’s long since been proven that Jack is not that kind of man. He slips on his greatcoat, the last gift Ianto Jones gave him, checks the silver capsule around his neck, and unseals the cabin door, stepping into the vast ice of deep space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only through a nifty bit of technology that Jack doesn’t die a sudden and horrid death. He’s triggered a feedback loop with his vortex manipulator, essentially keeping his entire person trapped in a small bubble of frozen time as he completes the final step of his pilgrimage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack wades and wobbles through the void like a newborn deer. There is light, not darkness, around him, deep swirls of vivid purples and blues, splashes of the glimmering grey of dust. Fitting that here is where he would come to put Ianto at rest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ventures out further and further yet, until he reaches the precipices of one of these swirls. He can feel the beginning of a great magnetic energy that causes his hair to stand on end and his skin to prickle. This is perfect, an unbelievable miracle in the universe, something where there should be nothing, just like Ianto Jones had been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he reaches for the capsule around his neck, undoing the fraying leather knot that had held it close to him all these years. He cradles the capsule gently in his palm, thumb poised beneath the delicate lid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jones, Ianto Jones,” begins Jack quietly. “Oh, what to say? Here I stand, a funeral of one, a mourner and a murderer prepared to eulogize a man who had his years snatched from him.” He inhales sharply, thankful for the bubble of time that allows his tears. “But that would diminish </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ianto, would diminish who you were. You were much, much more than solely who you were to me.” He scoffs. “And who were you to me?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you, Ianto, you were the man who loved monsters, who strived so greatly to be good. You were Gwen’s best friend, Tosh’s confidante, a brother to Owen, a hero, a survivor. You-” Jack’s voice cracks now from the weight of his words. “I should have told you no, Ianto. I should have never let you come back. It’s selfish of me, I know. You would have despised me, would have had less time with Lisa, but you would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>been alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ianto. You would have lived longer. You would have been safe, away from me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You meant more to me than you realized. I should have told you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should have told you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ianto Jones, you were the other half of my heart. When you died, a little piece of me did too, and it never came back with me. I don’t think it’s ever coming back, and I can live with that if it means that a little piece of my soul is already with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a shudder, Jack opens the capsule, stopgapping it briefly with his thumb. “I love you, Ianto Jones. I always told you I’d show you the stars.” He removes his thumb, sniffling, and flicks the capsule downwards slightly, watching the ashes that used to be Ianto Jones drift out into space. “Now, you’ll be part of them for eternity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Little faint specks, they float around Jack, and patiently, he bides his time. The state of his time bubble is not his concern; he will die countless deaths when it comes to Ianto Jones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then there’s a flare of color, a spark of bright white, as the first wave of ashes wanders into the swirl of purple-blue. The energy sweeps Ianto closer, wrapping around the last of him, drawing him in completely until there is no more Ianto Jones, until he is too scattered through space to be whole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be at peace, Ianto Jones,” mutters Jack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Jack wades back to his spaceship, his time running out, he thinks he hears a familiar voice, a familiar deep Welsh baritone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You dramatic bloody bastard. As if you need to be told that I loved you, Jack</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack laughs.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jack, what are we doing?” Ianto asks as he and Jack sit on a bench on the Plass, people-watching. It’s a sudden question, breaking through the muted murmur of the crowd. It’s a rare day of quiet from the Rift.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“We’re sitting,” Jack replies brightly, intentionally oblivious, “on a bench. In the Plass.” It’s still early days after his trip with the Doctor; he’s not entirely used to having conversations with Ianto that consist of something other than innuendo and flirtation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are we </span>
  </em>
  <span>doing</span>
  <em>
    <span>?” repeats Ianto. “Are we just passing our time with each other?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How could you ask that?” Jack says, head whipping around so he can gaze at Ianto, bewildered. “I’m not passing </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>with you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ianto Jones</span>
  </em>
  <span>; </span>
  <em>
    <span>I like spending time with you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re immortal, Jack,” Ianto reminds him, rubbing his brow. “You’re immortal, and I am a literal child. I’m barely even twenty-five. What are you doing with me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jack?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re part of a highly-trained elite team who save the world from aliens and collect the debris of time and space.” Jack gestures around the Plass. “All these people here, visiting the shops, eating chips, enjoying their Saturdays...they depend on you to help protect them. You’re not a child.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Highly-trained,” grumbles Ianto. “More like the Rift’s garbagemen.” Hearing Jack chuckle, he glances back towards the other man. “I don’t want you to regret this, to come out feeling like you’ve wasted your time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Time with you is sacred,” Jack says, and to his surprise, he means it. “I could never waste my time with you.” He has to show Ianto he cares the only way he knows how; he leans in to kiss Ianto softly and deeply.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jack vows that day that he will never let Ianto feel lesser than. Ianto Jones is a rarer miracle than most of the stars in the universe, and Jack will do anything to make sure Ianto understands that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Many, </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> years later, Jack visits that same quiet edge of the universe again, but now, there is no longer solely the great empty sprawl of space here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. There is a galaxy here, a shimmering sea of stars and planets and one very bright sun. These planets are full of life, years of history and culture, </span>
  <em>
    <span>existence</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack ventures out of his ship again, protected by another time bubble, and he takes it all in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the ashes of Ianto Jones blossomed a brand-new galaxy. From death to life. It’s a thought almost as beautiful as Ianto’s clever smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Jack returns to his ship, a bright star twinkles in greeting. It’s Ianto saying hello; it’s Ianto saying goodbye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack lifts his head and winks back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on tumblr <a></a><a href="http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/">here</a> or on Twitter  <a></a><a href="https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik">here</a> to let me know how much you liked this fic or request a prompt. Also, please comment or drop a line below even if it's to telling me how you've been doing. I thrive on kudos and social interacting, especially in this day and age.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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